Closer to You
by boxers-or-briefs
Summary: Ruthie is in love with Martin and it's no secret, even though he's having a baby with Sandy. But when Sandy suddenly passes away, leaving Martin a single father, will Ruthie see this as an opportunity to make her move?
1. One

**Author's Note and Disclaimer**:

Hi, all. I haven't written on this site for a long time and I haven't watched 7th Heaven in forever, but I can't stop writing with the characters. I just love them. So I'm sorry if some of the events in this story don't exactly line up perfectly because I don't remember when they happened on the show, so bear with me.

I obviously don't own 7th Heaven and I don't own any of the characters, either.

* * *

Closer to You

_One_

"I had a really nice time," he said as he walked her to her front door that evening. Jay so resembled Martin and that was one of the things that attracted her to him in the first place, but after spending only a few minutes with him on their first date, she quickly realized that he was nothing like the man she still loved. Needless to say, it was a long three hours.

Jay's green eyes, hardly comparative to Marin's gray ones, searched hers, waiting for her so say something.

Ruthie smiled a rather convincing smile that she had forced so many times now it was effortless. "I did, too. Thanks for dinner. And the movie was…" she trailed.

He chuckled. "Bad, I know. Sorry." He moved closer to her and grasped both her hands gently and Ruthie had to resist the urge to jerk them away. "But at least you were there with me. That made it worth it."

She almost felt bad, but gave a small laugh instead. "Yeah…Well, thanks again. Have a good night." She freed her hands from his as nonchalantly as she could and made to open the door, but he stopped her.

"Um, yeah, you, too," Jay said awkwardly, clearly wanting something. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Ruthie saw his eyes close as he moved in for a kiss.

She leaned back just before his lips could meet hers. He opened his eyes, looking puzzled. Thinking quickly, she lied, gesturing, "Sorry, I'm just getting over a cold. Don't want you to get sick." She smiled, hoping she looked apologetic and not repulsed. "Goodnight."

He stepped back, nodding but still looking defeated and disappointed. "Goodnight."

She ducked into the house and pulled back the curtains at the front window to watch him head down the walkway and get into his car. As Jay drove away, she sighed, letting the curtains fall back into place.

The house was oddly quiet. She wondered why her father hadn't peeked out the door when she and her date had come home. He usually always was waiting in his study just waiting to interrupt the goodnight kiss.

Ruthie walked over to her father's study door and pushed it slightly open. Peeking inside, she took in the dim room and empty chair behind the desk.

Had her father even known she had a date that night? Where was he?

She made her way into the kitchen and found the lights turned off there too, her mother nowhere to be found.

"Hello?" she called, flicking the lights on, filling the room with light.

She received no answer and instantly felt her eyebrows come together. Something was very weird. Shrugging it off, Ruthie grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and took a drink. As she was putting the lid back on, her eyes fell on the blinking red light on the answering machine. There was a message.

She hit play and her mother's voice filled the room.

"Ruthie, it's Mom. You must still be on your date. I tried calling your cell phone, but there was no answer. Anyway, we're all down here at the hospital with Martin." Ruthie's heart skipped a beat for a moment, hoping nothing had happened to him, and then it plummeted into her stomach with what her mother said next, "Sandy's having the baby. Martin said he'd be happy if you would come. He really needs as much support as he can get right now, and even though we are here for him, I really think it'd mean more to him if you were here, too. If you're up to it, you know where we'll be. I-"

Ruthie almost broke the machine from the amount of force that she hit the 'delete' button with. Tears were already blinding her vision and pouring down her face. She knew this day would come eventually. Sandy couldn't be pregnant forever, but now that there would be an actual baby to take care of, Ruthie knew that her chances of ever being with Martin were pretty much slim to none. He had told her that before, though, but it hadn't really sunk in until now.

She grabbed her water and headed up to her room in the attic. She didn't know what her mother was thinking asking her to go to the hospital. There was no way that she could ever handle that. She couldn't see Martin and Sandy, let alone the two of them with their baby in their arms. No. She couldn't. That scenario had already played out many times in Ruthie's head in many different ways and none of them had ever ended well. She just wished that Sandy would have never had that baby, or if she had to have it, then she wished she would have just gone away and disappeared from Martin's life, and consequently, Ruthie's life, forever.

As soon as she had thrown herself on her bed, she felt something vibrating in her back pocket. Sniffling, she retrieved her phone and looked at the number. Martin was calling, his smiling face looking up at her from the screen. Angrily, she hit the ignore button, shut off her phone and shoved it under her pillow.

After all, some of this was his fault too. She had told him she hated him when he first told her that Sandy was pregnant with his child. It wasn't true, though. She didn't hate him, she loved him. And she still loved him and didn't think it was possible that she would ever _not_ love him, no matter what anyone said.

Not even bothering to wipe her tears away after she had stopped sobbing, or to even kick off her shoes, Ruthie curled up in a ball on her bed and just laid there, feeling more numb than anything. She didn't know how long she stayed that way, though she knew it was a long time, before she heard the front door close and someone calling her name throughout the house.

She didn't feel like answering. If anything, she felt somewhat annoyed. She didn't want any company and she certainly didn't want to talk. There were feet on the stairs just outside her room and she quickly screwed her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

"Ruthie?"

The familiar voice made her startle, not because she had really been awoken from sleep, but because it had been so long since she had heard her brother's voice. Simon had been away at school and had seemingly been avoiding the family at all costs, so it was strange that he was home.

"Ruthie, are you awake?" he asked. She heard him come closer to her bed and lay a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

"No. Go away," she grunted. Her back was to him, but she could feel his eyes studying her, and she knew he wasn't going to leave her alone.

"You have to wake up," he insisted. There was something strange in his voice. Involuntarily, Ruthie's eyes opened as he continued. "Something's happened."

She wiped the tears away from under her eyes, hoping she didn't have a massive amount of running mascara that would give away her cover, and sat up, trying to act sleepy.

"What's going on? Why are you here?" she asked, sitting up on her elbows.

Simon sighed and sat on her bed next to her feet. He looked like he was searching for the words that wouldn't come. "I'm here with Rose."

"Wonderful. Why does that concern me?" she asked, beginning to get annoyed. Every other time Simon had been home, it seemed like he was only there because he was in some sort of trouble. She absently wondered if he had gotten Rose pregnant before their wedding day. After all, she had lied about it before; why not get pregnant for real this time?

"Have you talked to Dad?" he asked. He was fidgeting with his fingers and Ruthie could tell he was extremely uncomfortable and didn't want to have to tell her whatever it was that he had to say.

Ruthie rolled her eyes. "No. I haven't talked to anyone. I only just got home a little while ago," she lied. "What is it, Simon? I'd really like to go back to sleep, if you don't mind," she urged, growing tired of having him in her room when she really just wanted to be alone. She dropped back down to her pillow, sure that whatever Simon had to say would be of no interest to her.

Suddenly Simon got very still. He looked her directly in the eyes and said, "Something's happened. You have to come to hospital with me."

"No, I'm not going there. I got Mom's message about Sandy having her baby and I really don't want any part of that."

"I thought you said you just got home. Mom said she called you, like, four hours ago."

"I lied," she stated harshly, as if it should have been obvious.

He shook his head. "That's not the point," Simon said, clearly trying to get back on track.

"Then, what's the point?" Ruthie asked, exasperated.

"Sandy's dead."

Ruthie shot straight up so quickly she felt her brain go fuzzy and thought she might pass out. "What? How?"

Simon looked away, shaking his head. "I don't know. I guess there was some kind of complication, but I don't know the full details. Dad called and told me, but I think that was right after it happened because he didn't know a whole lot. I had to tell Rose…" he trailed off, and his eyes seemed to go out of focus, obviously reliving the moment that he had to tell his fiancée that her best friend had just died.

Ruthie didn't know what to say. She was in shock. She managed to close her mouth, but couldn't swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. It was only hours before when she was wishing that Sandy weren't here, but she certainly never wished her dead. She couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Is Rose here?" Ruthie asked, not knowing what else to say.

"No. I dropped her off at the hospital. Mom told me to come find you."

"Did you see Martin?" she asked, not knowing what she wanted the answer to be.

"No. He was still in the room with her…Sandy."

"Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah, as far as I know," he replied hollowly, and then added, "It's a boy."

Ruthie buried her head in her hands. "God," she sighed. She felt like she should be crying, but she couldn't. For this, the tears wouldn't come. She felt stupid, like there was something wrong with her. "Poor Martin. I can't even imagine what he is going through right now."

"I know." Simon put a hand on her back, trying to comfort her. After a moment of silence, she felt him get off the bed. "I have to get back to the hospital. Are you coming?"

She waited for a moment. Then, "Yeah, but I'll meet you there. I want to clean up a little first," she lied. She didn't know if she could handle seeing Martin now. It was bad enough going there to see him and Sandy welcome their child into the world and therefore solidify their relationship, but that had been for her own selfishness. Now, she didn't know how to be there for him. She had been such a jerk to him about Sandy, she didn't know if she was really the one to be there for him to assure him that everything would be okay. He knew she never had a soft spot in her heart for Sandy, she was afraid he might think she was rubbing Sandy's death in his face. She didn't know what she was going to do.

Simon looked concerned. At that moment, he reminded her so much of Matt it was scary with that big brother expression. He apparently decided to trust her because he leaned over and gathered her into a tight hug. "Okay. Be careful. I'll see you there."

He let her go and disappeared from the room. Ruthie waited until she heard the door open, then close, and his car to start before she even moved from the bed. She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Quickly, she removed the makeup from her face as there was no hope in saving it at this point, and threw her curly hair up into a messy pony tail on the top of her head. Grabbing a sweater from the closet and shrugging it on, Ruthie headed down the stairs and out of her house into the cool night air. For a moment, she just stood on the steps, and then she made her decision and started away from her house, walking in an out of the light of the streetlamps.

Ruthie didn't know where she was going, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't going to the hospital.


	2. Two

Closer to You

_Two_

Ruthie had been walking for hours with only one thought running tirelessly through her mind: Sandy's dead. She couldn't think of anything else, and she didn't know what would come of this situation. There was nothing else in her head. It was like her brain couldn't handle anymore than this single thought and she didn't even know what to make of it.

She didn't know how many times she had passed the park, but her legs suddenly started heading towards an empty bench just outside the light of the streetlamp. She sat down and just stared at the ground, not even blinking. Forcing herself to focus on Martin, she suddenly came to the realization that he was now a single father. How was he going to handle this on his own? How was he handling Sandy's death?

When he first found out Sandy was pregnant, he had wanted nothing to do with her. It had been just a one-night stand that turned out to have dire consequences. Ruthie absently wished Martin had continued to be a jerk to Sandy and ignore her, and then her stomach gave a sharp twist and she instantly felt guilty. The thing about thoughts is that once you think them, you can't un-think them. Ruthie felt like the lowest piece of dirt on the planet. She promised she wouldn't even think about Sandy anymore and decided that would be the best thing to do for the moment.

Martin was her best friend. He had always been there for her when she had problems, even those that included her feelings about him, and that was something she had always admired. If anything, it made her love him more. Now that he needed her, she didn't even know what to do.

Headlights flooded over Ruthie and she looked up, blinded by the intense light. She squinted and instantly recognized the police car. Quickly, she stood up, knowing she looked guilty. It was afterhours for the park and she knew she wasn't supposed to be there. She was trying to think of an excuse, but stopped when she realized who the officer was. Sergeant Michaels was stepping out of his cruiser and making his way toward her.

Ruthie sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets, not knowing what else to do.

"Ruthie," Sergeant Michaels said. "Your parents have been looking for you. They're worried sick, as I guess you can imagine."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, I just went for a walk and I guess I just lost track of time," she explained.

"Your parents have been calling you. Are you alright?" he asked, studying her face. Sergeant Michaels had known the family for years and Ruthie wondered if her parents had told him what was going on. He just had this look in his eyes and then she was sure that he knew, but she didn't think he would mention it.

"Yeah," she managed. "I'm okay. I forgot my phone at the house. I was just on my way home right now." She said the words but she really didn't want to go home.

"I'll give you a ride. It's late. You shouldn't be out here." Sergeant Michaels started back toward his car and Ruthie knew he meant for her to follow him and she did, sliding into the passenger side.

It was a silent and awkward ride home. As they turned onto Ruthie's street, she couldn't help but look toward Martin's house and saw a light on. He must be home by now. There was a shadow in the window and Ruthie quickly looked away and slid a little lower in the seat.

The pulled into the drive and Ruthie nodded her thanks to Sergeant Michaels and exited the car. The lights were on in the kitchen and she knew her parents were awake waiting for her.

She braced herself and went inside.

"Oh, Ruthie, there you are. We were so worried," her mother said, coming toward her for a hug. Her eyes were puffy and Ruthie knew she had been crying, probably for a few different reasons.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to make you worry," Ruthie assured her mother as best as she could. She buried her face in her mother's hair and returned the hug. And then her father was there too, hugging the both of them.

"Simon said you were coming to the hospital, so when you didn't show up, we got worried," her father explained when they broke apart.

Ruthie couldn't bear to look her parents in the face. "I know. I was going to, really, but I just couldn't…"

"Martin asked for you," her father offered, but Ruthie didn't know how he meant for that to be interpreted. It just made her feel worse.

"Dad, I can't even talk about Martin right now. I just can't, I'm sorry." Suddenly she felt like crying again. Ruthie felt like she was on a roller coaster ride and she just wanted to get off.

Her mother nodded and said, "Okay. But eventually you are going to have to talk to him. You're his best friend and he really needs you right now."

Ruthie didn't know what else to say. "I'm just going to go the bed. I'm exhausted."

She turned to go up the stairs, but her father stopped her. "Before you go, I just wanted to let you know that we don't want you leaving the house by yourself, at least not for a while. I understand that today has been hard on you, but you can't just take off like that. Anything could have happened to you."

"You're grounding me?" she asked, somewhat surprised. She figured under the circumstances, her parents would have gone easy on her, but she was wrong.

She looked from her father to her mother and back again, both of them silent, but stern. Not finding the energy to argue, she just mumbled, "Okay," and headed up the stairs.

* * *

It had been about a week since Sandy had passed away. Ruthie still hadn't talked to Martin. She had gone to the funeral only because her parents had forced her to and ducked out right when it was over without talking to anyone. She had seen Martin. He looked absolutely terrible and Ruthie found her heart aching for him.

He hadn't called since that day and she hadn't made an attempt to talk to him either. She didn't know what to say. The longer she tried to figure it out more time was passing and the longer she didn't speak to him, the harder it was to imagine how the conversation would go. Either way, she knew it wouldn't go well and it was then that she realized that she would just have to get it over with.

That night when everyone was asleep, Ruthie grabbed her sweater and snuck down the stairs, desperately trying not to wake up her parents or the twins. She was still grounded, but even if she weren't, she would never have been allowed out of the house this late anyway, especially on a school night.

Making it down the stairs successfully, she soundlessly went out the back door and headed across the street to Martin's house. Luckily, there was a light on and Ruthie peered inside the window through the barely cracked blinds. Martin was just coming into the living room from the hallway with a baby blanket over his shoulder. He had probably just come from putting the baby to sleep.

He had flopped down on the couch and picked up the remote to flip through channels on the television. Ruthie's heart was beating so fast she felt like it was going to crash through her chest and break Martin's window. She tried to take a breath to steady herself, but it was no use.

She reached out to the front door and knocked softly. At first, she thought Martin hadn't heard her, but his body seemed to stiffen, then he got up and came towards the window. His gray eyes look through the blinds, catching hers and she tried to read his expression to no avail.

He disappeared and a moment later had opened the door.

Martin took in the girl standing in front of him with tired eyes. She was dressed in sweat pants and a red pull-over sweater, her curly hair in a pony tail high on her head. Ruthie bit the inside of her cheek nervously and waited for him to speak.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She didn't know what she was expecting him to say, but she certainly wasn't expecting that. Wasn't it obvious?

"I- I'm sorry," she stammered, suddenly feeling like an idiot.

"For what?" he asked. "For not calling me? For ignoring me when I needed a friend? Or are you somehow sorry for the death of my child's mother? What are you sorry for, Ruthie? I'm going to need a real good explanation here."

Ruthie felt attacked. Obviously he had been thinking about her a lot, and it wasn't in a good way. "I'm sorry for everything. I really wanted to be there for you, but I didn't know how."

He scoffed. "You just be there, Ruthie. It doesn't matter what you say or what you do, you just be there."

She felt the tears stinging behind her eyes, but she held them back, knowing that it wasn't her place to cry. "I know you're angry with me and you have every right to be," she started softly. "I can't imagine what you're going through or how you're feeling. You're my best friend, Martin, and I'm really sorry that I let you down. But I'm here now. I want to help you get through this."

Martin hung his head and she knew it was to hide his face. He didn't want her to see him cry. "Come in," he said, stepping aside to let her in the warm house.

Ruthie stepped over the threshold, but before he could close the door, she put her fingers to his chin and lifted his face towards her and into the light. Tears were glistening in his eyes, threatening to spill over. She could feel her own eyes welling up but not for her own pain, but because she felt his so suddenly and so strongly.

"It's going to be okay," she said. "We'll get you through this."

She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him. He gave the door a slight push, letting it close quietly, before he buried his face in her shoulder, his body shaking with silent sobs. Ruthie didn't say anything at all and she didn't need to. Just being there and holding him was enough. Words would come later.


	3. Three

_Three_

Ruthie stared at Martin's face that was bathed in dim-orange light that flooded from the table lamp behind her. He wasn't looking at her, but rather at his hands that he held in his lap that couldn't stop fidgeting. His expression was blank and for the first time since they had known each other, she didn't know how to read it.

She didn't say anything, just sat there with a coffee mug of tea clasped in her hands, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move. They had moved from the foyer into the living room and sat on the couch once he had regained his composure. He had tossed her the blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch and she covered herself with it, using it as some kind of security. Ruthie was unsure of what Martin was going to say to her, but she was sure that she was in for some angry conversation. After all, when he had opened the door, he was pretty upset with her, for which she couldn't blame him.

It was another few moments before he spoke, but when he did, she was completely thrown off.

"I thought you hated me," he said quietly, still not looking at her.

She was completely prepared for him to say that he hated _her, _not the other way around. "I don't hate you, Martin," she replied. "I could never hate you. I love you." Cringing, she instantly regretted her last words.

With that, he did look at her. His eyes were puffy, but still the same slate gray they had always been. He looked confused, apparently not knowing which way to comprehend what she had said.

"Ruthie-" he started, but she cut him off before he could get any further.

"Not like that..." she stammered. "I mean, I do, love you, but I'm not trying to…I just meant that you're my best friend. And that I'll be here for you. I know I kind of flaked out on you, I just didn't know what to say. A friend is supposed to make everything better, and I just had no idea how to do that. I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot." Finally, the words stopped spilling out and she was grateful for that.

Martin seemed to smile before she looked away, but it could have just been a trick of the light. She didn't want to turn to find out because she could already feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. A stray curl had fallen out of her pony tail and covered her face as she set the coffee mug on the table.

"I know," he sighed. "You're not an idiot. It's a hard situation for anyone to deal with."

Ruthie felt so stupid. Yes, it was difficult for anyone, but especially him because, ultimately, this directly affected his life unlike anyone else's. She had acted like such a child and it was strange for Martin to forgive her. If their roles were reversed, Ruthie didn't know if she could forgive him.

"You should hate me," she whispered, knowing it was true. She didn't deserve his understanding and kindness.

Martin reached over and tucked the loose hair behind her ear. "I don't," he said.

Ruthie shivered at the unexpected gesture and its intimacy. It made her heart ache. She pushed herself up off the couch, stood across from him, and finally forced herself to look him in the eyes.

"Please, don't. I want to be here for you, Martin, but not like that. It _can't_ be like that. I know you don't love me, so you're really going to have to stop doing things… like that." She sighed, glancing at the time on the cable clock. "It's late. You should get to sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

He stretched out on the couch at her words and rested his head on the arm rest. Martin looked up at her and caught her eye. "You're right, I'm sorry. I don't know what made me do that."

"It's fine. Why don't you just go to bed?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Aaron will be awake soon for another bottle. I don't want to go to bed and get comfortable just to have to get up again as soon as I lay down," he explained, pointing to the white baby monitor on the table.

"Right." Somehow she had forgotten about the baby boy that slept soundly in the other room, completely unaware. She bent down and grabbed the blanket from the floor that had fallen off her lap when she stood up and threw it over Martin.

"Thanks," he whispered, and closed his eyes.

Ruthie headed for the door and let herself out. She had walked back across the street, snuck back into her house, and was climbing the stairs to her room before she even realized that she had been crying. She thought she could make it through that evening without tears. Crying in front of Martin wasn't acceptable anymore, at least not for now, and she had to be strong for him. Her pain completely paled in comparison to his and she had to learn how to put her own emotions out of her mind when she was around him.

Ruthie thought she might have succeeded, too, if he hadn't pushed the hair out of her face. What in the world possessed him to do something like that? He had never said that he was in love with her, but you just don't do something like that unless you have some sort of deep feelings for someone. Even when they would be together as friends, he had never done that. She didn't know what to make of it, and coming to conclusions at this point would be disastrous.

Even though she knew the gesture was coming from a place of grief and wasn't real, a big part of her still hoped that someday it would be.


	4. Four

_Four_

Ruthie felt oddly numb when she got home that night. She had slipped back into the house and back into her bed remarkably undetected. It came as somewhat of a shock, as she was half-expecting her mother and father to be waiting up for her in the kitchen.

But they weren't, and she was stuck by herself with her thoughts. She never expected to turn down an advance from the one man she wanted one from for a very long time. But it happened and Ruthie was still trying to decide how she felt about it.

She knew she did the right thing. He wasn't in a stable emotional state to have been thinking clearly. As much as she hated to think it, she was almost angry with him for doing it.

Sighing, Ruthie tried to push Martin out of her mind. He was taking up too much of her energy and it was all for nothing. He would have to be just a friend for the time being. It would take a while for her to get back into the friend mindset when thinking about him and not picturing him as a potential boyfriend. He had enough to deal with without having to worry about a new relationship.

Ruthie closed her eyes and was just starting to drift off to sleep when she was startled awake again by the loud ring of her cell phone. She scrambled to sit upright in her bed, thinking maybe it was Martin and completely upending her thoughts of trying to let him go. The sheets twisted around her, but she shook them off and reached for her phone on the bedside table.

Illuminating from the screen and lighting up her pitch black room was a number she didn't recognize. Going against her better judgment and her sinking heart, she answered.

"Hello?" she whispered into the phone.

"Ruthie?"

She almost dropped the phone at the sound of his voice. It couldn't be…she hadn't heard from him in ages.

"This is Ruthie," she replied, not really knowing what else to say.

"Ruthie, I need to see you."

Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty against the phone.

"Okay."

"Meet me at the park in a few hours. I know it's early, but I really need someone to talk to and I can't think of anyone that I trust more than you."

Ruthie took a breath to try to calm down. She looked at the clock, which glared 6:30 a.m in angry red numbers.

"Okay, Peter. I'll see you there."

* * *

Ruthie got a couple of hours of sleep before it was time to go meet Peter. She got out of bed, threw on a deep teal sweat suit, put her hair up in a messy bun and walked down the stairs, not even bothering with her makeup like she would have for Martin. She knew she probably had dark purple bags under her eyes but she found herself not caring. It was nice to not worry about that with Peter. Even though she hadn't seen him in a while, she was still oddly comfortable with him.

She found her father at the table when she entered the kitchen. He looked up from the page he was reading in the newspaper, the toast stopped comically halfway to his mouth.

"You're up early for a weekend," he said. "Going to Martin's?"

Ruthie felt a twinge of anger. "No, actually. I _do_ have a life outside of Martin, you know," she snapped back, somewhat more intensely than she had meant, but she made no apologies.

Eric tried to backpedal, not wanting to start an argument with his teenage daughter. "I'm sorry. I know you do. I just thought you might have wanted to go see him since you haven't talked in a while."

Ruthie's eyebrow rose. "Why? He said something to you, didn't he?"

There was a pause, then, "He might have mentioned it…"

Ruthie rolled her eyes and went to the drawer by the oven. Over her shoulder, she said, "Whether or not I decide to talk to Martin is my business." Clearly, her parents didn't know that she had gone over there the night before for that very reason and she wasn't about to tell on herself.

She grabbed the dog leash from the drawer and shut it again as the family dog, Happy, came trotting up to her. Ruthie attached the leash to Happy's collar and straightened to face her father.

"I'm going to take Happy for a walk. I need to get out of the house for a while," she said and walked out the door before her father could protest.

* * *

The park was still relatively empty when she got there, save for the few early birds who were jogging. She walked around for a bit before spotting the blonde-haired boy sitting on a bench a couple yards away. Ruthie headed over to him with Happy by her side.

He looked strange, Ruthie noticed as she approached him. His eyes seemed glazed over and red. It had been a long time since she last saw him, but Ruthie couldn't ever remember him looking quite like this.

She had been standing in front of him, but he hadn't even looked up. Happy nudged his hands with her nose as Ruthie said, "Peter?"

Peter looked up and focused on her. Immediately, he brightened up and a smile cracked across his face, but he still seemed weird to her.

"Ruthie! I'm so glad to see you." He stood and wrapped her in a tight hug. Pushing her away again, he took a closer look. "You look beautiful."

She raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Thanks," she replied flatly, noting her bare face and lazy hair. "I wish I could say the same about you. You look terrible. Are you okay?"

Still smiling, Peter shrugged. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well last night – or at all, really. I was out with some friends. I haven't even been home yet."

He took his seat back on the bench and motioned for her to join him, which she did.

"That's not like you," she said, continuing the conversation. There was something going on with Peter and she was determined to find out with it was. "What about your Mom?"

Peter waved her off. "Yeah, well, sometimes you just need a break. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. My life's been kind of crazy, too, this year." She looked away and stared at her hands in her lap. "So, what's got you so stressed out?" she asked quickly, not wanting to give the impression that she wanted to talk about her life.

"Well," he started. "My girlfriend left me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even know you have a girlfriend."

Peter looked at her. "Yeah, you wouldn't have because you never called me like you said you would."

She felt taken aback. "Hey, don't blame me for not keeping in touch. You didn't call me either."

"Don't get mad. I didn't mean for you to take it personally." He paused. "So, are you seeing anyone?"

Martin's face swam into Ruthie's mind. She realized she hadn't really thought about him much since last night. It had been nice.

"There is – uh, was – one guy, but I don't know if anything can ever happen between us." She looked away again, but she could still feel Peter's eyes on her.

"Why can't anything happen?" Peter asked. "Any guy would be lucky to have you. I know - I speak from experience." He gave her a small smile.

"Thanks, but he had a baby with someone and that someone passed away, leaving him a single father, so he has a lot to deal with," she explained, the words just spilling out the short version.

"Oh, man. That's tough."

"Yeah," she agreed. "When I first found out that he was having a baby, I was so embarrassed and hurt. He had broken up with his girlfriend and I thought he did that for me. I mean, here was this great guy and he left someone for me. I thought he was in love with me and that I was something special, but then he told me the truth. He had really only gotten dumped by his girlfriend at the time because he had gotten some college girl knocked up." She scoffed under her breath. "I was such an idiot."

Peter was silent and Ruthie instantly regretted saying anything.

"You must have been really in love with this guy."

"I was. I mean, maybe I still am, I don't know," she said, trying to downplay how much she still really was in love with Martin.

"Can I ask you something?" Peter asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, sure," she said, facing him.

"Is it Martin?"

Ruthie sighed. "Yes, how did you know?"

Peter chuckled at her questions. "It's Glenoak. I remember everyone talked about him when it happened. I just put it together."

"Oh," she said. How could she forget the gossip? "Right." She could feel her mood descending. Silently, she prayed that Peter would find another subject.

He was studying her. They didn't say anything for a while and Ruthie wondered what he was thinking. Absently, she scratched Happy behind the ears as they sat.

Suddenly, Peter spoke.

"You know what?" he asked.

"What?" she replied, getting a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach as she caught his eyes.

"I think you're still in love with him, no matter what you say."

"Oh, really? Why do you say that?"

"Because I know the feeling, the look, the way you speak about him," Peter said in a soft voice as his face took on a gentle expression. "I know because I'm still in love with you."


	5. Five

_Five_

"What?"

Ruthie search Peter's face frantically for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke, but came up empty.

"I love you," he repeated. "I can't stop thinking about you ever since we moved away. It was part of the reason I talked my parents into moving back here when they suggested the idea."

The universe was really testing her strength. Or was it giving her another opportunity to be happy? At this point, Ruthie was thoroughly confused.

"What about your girlfriend? If you were so in love with me, how could you have had a girlfriend?" she asked, trying to find some way out of this conversation.

Peter shrugged. "It's why she left me."

"No, no no," Ruthie groaned, shaking her head and burying her face in her hands.

"Look," he started, resting a hand on her shoulder, "I honestly didn't come here expecting you to feel the same way and fall in love with me all over again. I'm not asking you for anything. I need to tell you. It was just something that I had to do. No pressure or anything."

Ruthie could have laughed out loud. "No pressure?" she repeated, suddenly sitting upright and looking him in the eyes. "No pressure? Of course there's pressure. I mean, here you are coming out of nowhere and dropping a _huge_ bomb on me. This information is definitely something that I don't need right now."

Peter watched her with a puzzled expression. He didn't know what to say, but Ruthie spoke for him.

"Peter, I'm sorry. I can't. I can't be with you. I'm so stupidly in love with someone else that probably doesn't even want me, but I can't make those feelings go away. He's my best friend and he needs me, even if he needs me in a different way than as a girlfriend."

He glanced away and watched Happy paw at the ground, trying to get a bug. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He looked at her and, to her surprise, gave her a smile. "Okay," he repeated. "I did what I needed to do. Well, I'm back in town so if you ever need to talk or get away for a little bit, you know the number. I'll always be here for you."

Ruthie returned his smile, surprised at how well he had handled everything she had to say. "Thanks… for understanding and for the offer."

Peter nodded. "I should be getting home and your parents are probably wondering where you are, too."

"Yeah, probably," she agreed and stood up with him.

"You want some company?"

"No, thanks. I'd rather just walk alone. Think things over," she said.

"Okay, well, if you need me, just call and I'll be there."

"I will." Ruthie gave Peter a hug. She tugged on Happy's leash and set off for home.

* * *

Ruthie dropped Happy off at her house and then headed across the street to Martin's. His father's landscaping truck had just pulled away from the curb and headed down the street, letting her know that Martin would be alone with Aaron in the house. She cleared her throat and knocked softly on the door.

The door opened and Martin appeared in the doorway. "Thanks for not ringing the bell. I just put Aaron down." He stepped aside to let her in.

"No problem. I know how crazy my mom got when the twins were sleeping and someone rang the bell," she said, trying to start off with a light mood because their last conversation was intense, but Martin just gave her a nod.

"You look tired," he observed.

"Same to you," she said as she followed him into the kitchen where a sink full of bottles awaited him. "Here, let me do that, you sit down. You look like you could use a break." Ruthie rolled up her sleeves and plunged them into the warm, soapy water as Martin gave her a grateful look and took a seat at the table.

Ruthie watched him rest his elbows on the table and rub his eyes. He wasn't saying much and Ruthie didn't push him. She was rinsing bubbles off the third bottle when she decided to venture a question.

"So, how are you doing?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I've been so busy with Aaron that I haven't really had any time to figure out what it is I'm feeling. But every time I look at him, I just feel…"

"Sad?" Ruthie provided.

"Terrified."

"What are you scared of?" she asked, finishing the last bottle and draining the sink. She dried her hands and took an empty seat at the table next to him.

"Everything. I mean, I know what he needs now because he's still a baby, but what about when he gets older? His mom is gone. I don't know if I'm going to be enough for him."

Ruthie reached out and put a hand on his arm. He looked at her and Ruthie knew that he was so lost. Her heart ached for him. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Martin, sometimes things happen that we think we don't deserve, but you've heard my father say it a million times. God makes things happen for a reason. We might not know what the reason was for taking Sandy away, but we will," she said. "I know you can get through this and Aaron will love you and appreciate you even more for stepping up and being there for him. God doesn't give us things that we aren't strong enough to handle."

Martin blinked and looked away from her, but she knew he was still listening. She continued, "You know how it was like to not have a mother for a big part of your life. You can use that experience to relate to him. I know it's not the best thing to have in common with your child, but it's something that will be important."

He wiped his arm across his face to dry his eyes. "You're right. But I met my mother. I knew what she was like, how she looked, how she smelled. I have memories. He will have nothing."

"That's not true. He might not have the memories with her, but you can make them for him. Tell him about Sandy. Tell him how kind she was and what a good person she had been. Tell him how much she loved him the moment she found out she was pregnant. Show him pictures. He can still know his mother. You just have to help him."

"What do I say when he asks if I loved her?"

Ruthie fell silent, and then asked a question she didn't ever really want to know the answer to. "Did you love her?"

Martin's voice was quiet, but steady, as he said, "I think about it a lot and, sometimes, I think I could have."


	6. Six

_Six_

As soon as the words left his mouth, Martin became very aware of the deafening silence hanging in the air. He chanced a look at Ruthie. She was sitting very still, her hand still perched on his arm, but there was something behind her eyes that he didn't like seeing. For a moment, it had seemed like old times when he could tell her anything without having to censor his words to spare her feelings, but once he had admitted something about Sandy that he had kept inside for so long, the present roared back. He knew it was a mistake to say that to Ruthie, but it was too late.

"Ruthie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like -" he started, trying to think of the right words to say.

She jerked her hand off of his arm as if it was suddenly on fire and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. A forced smile appeared on her face, and she shook her head vehemently, forcing the fresh tears back.

"No, it's okay. Really," she said, her voice sounding strange. "I'm completely over it. You don't have to worry about me."

Martin didn't know how to react. "Ruthie, I care about you a lot. I really do. I honestly wasn't thinking when I said that. It was just something I had on my mind, and I shouldn't have told you, because now it sounds completely ridiculous."

Ruthie pushed herself off the chair. "It's really not that ridiculous once you think about it, though. She was the mother of your child. How can you not love someone that gives you something as special as a child?"

Martin stood and grasped her around the shoulders. "I'm just sorry I said it. It was just a thought. Please, don't take it personally."

Ruthie took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm not taking it personally. It's not like I'm in love with you anymore," she lied, and the puzzled look on Martin's face gave her a small bit of satisfaction. "I've got to get going. I have a date tonight."

Martin's arms dropped like lead. Before he could say any of the things racing through his head, she had brushed past him and sauntered out the door.

* * *

"So, you want to do something tonight, or what?" Ruthie asked into the phone. She had called Peter as soon as she reached her bedroom.

A laugh came through the speaker. "I didn't think you'd be calling this soon."

"Well, things change. I really just want to get out tonight. I don't want to stay home. Can we please do something?" she asked.

"What's wrong? Why are you so eager to get out? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened. I just want to get out, okay?"

"I still don't think you're telling me everything, but I'll take you out. There is a party tonight that I was planning on going to, but I think it might be a little too crazy for you," said Peter.

Ruthie was intrigued. "Well, maybe I feel like doing something crazy."

Peter was quiet for a moment. "Ruthie, I really don't think you're ready for this kind of thing. It's just not you."

"Peter, I'm a big girl, okay? I can handle myself."

"Alright…I really don't feel comfortable with this, but if you want to go, we'll go. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Great. Pick me up at nine," she said and put the phone back into the receiver.

Peter sat in his car at the end of Ruthie's driveway and watched silently as she got into the passenger seat.

"Um, what are you doing?" he asked, taking in her appearance. Her hair had been straightened so it fell in chocolate brown sheets halfway down her back and it looked like she used all the dark brown eyeshadow and eyeliner that she owned.

"Going to the party," she replied, buckling her seatbelt. "How do I look?" she asked, throwing him a coy grin.

Her lips shone with nude gloss and her outfit of a black strapless top and hot pink skirt barely covered her body.

"Like a hooker."

Her smile widened, and Peter didn't know why this made her happy. "Great! Now, drive," she instructed.

Peter forced himself to turn the key in the ignition and the car roared alive. He shook his head as Ruthie turned up the radio. Putting the car into gear and driving away, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that tonight wasn't going to be a good one.

* * *

Ruthie walked arm-in-arm with Peter into the backyard where there was a throng of people, some standing by the beer table and others spontaneously dancing on the lawn. She observed them, interested.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" Peter asked her, tilting his head over so she could hear him over the loud music. "We can still leave and catch a movie or something."

"Don't be so uptight. Let's have fun," she replied as a dark-haired 20-something man came towards them.

"Peter! You made it, man. Didn't think you would show up after last night," he laughed, playfully punching Peter in the shoulder.

Peter nodded, "Yeah, it was pretty crazy," he agreed. Ruthie knew he was holding back because of her.

"What happened?" Ruthie asked, wanting to know more about Peter than he was letting on.

The guy looked at her. "Peter was out of his mind. It was a good time," he smiled. "I'm Gage, by the way." He stretched out a hand to her.

"Ruthie," she said, shaking his hand, Peter shifting uncomfortably beside her.

"Very nice to meet you. Here have this one," he said, handing her a red cup filled with foamy alcohol. "I'll get another one. Have a good time." As he walked away, Ruthie could have sworn he winked at her.

Once his back was turned, Peter tried to grab for the cup. "Don't drink that."

But it was too late. Ruthie shoved the cup up to her lips and downed it, the beer burning her throat, but she didn't care.

"Oh, my, God," Peter mumbled, shaking his head. "Your parents are going to kill me."

Ruthie tossed the empty cup on the ground beside her. "Don't worry about it. I told them I was sleeping over at a friend's house. I don't even have to go home." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Still, you shouldn't be drinking. You're going to regret it."

Ruthie ripped her arm from Peter's and rounded on him, "Don't tell me what to do. I can make my own decisions, Mr. Hypocrite."

"Look, I know you're upset about something, but this isn't going to help. Take it from me. I've been there and done that."

She stared at him and then finally said, "Don't act like you know anything about my life." Someone from across the yard had called to her and she was gone, leaving Peter staring after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Peter tossed his soda can into the trash bin and sat back down on an ice chest. He had been scanning the yard for a sign of Ruthie, but he couldn't find her anywhere. Just as he was about to get up and look again, the back gate opened and someone extremely familiar walked in the backyard. He jumped off the ice chest and attempted to hide, but the man spotted him.

"Peter? I didn't expect to see you here. When did you get back into town?" Simon asked.

Peter shoved his hands in to his pockets and prayed that Ruthie wouldn't take this time to suddenly make an appearance. "Oh, we moved back to Glen Oak a few weeks ago. This is my cousin's house. He thought I could meet some new people," he lied, hoping Simon would somehow decide to go home. "I thought you would be with your girlfriend. Rose, is it?"

Simon looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, things aren't going to good with her. I just had to get out of the house for a while. You know how that is."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, that's what I hear these days."

Simon was just about to respond when various cat-calls and clapping erupted from the crowd.

"It looks like this party is already getting crazy," Simon said. "I think I'm just going to take off."

"Okay," Peter agreed, a little too eagerly.

"You want a ride home or something? You should probably be getting home, too."

"You're right. I was just leaving. No thanks on the ride, though. I have my car." Peter wished he would just leave already.

"Okay. As long as you haven't been drinking…?"

"No, I'm good. Just soda for me."

Simon was just about to turn around and leave when his jaw dropped open, but no sound came out. Peter could feel his heart stop, fearing that Simon had spotted Ruthie, but he forced himself to turn around anyway.

Peter's face matched Simon's instantly as he caught sight of Ruthie sucking face with some guy against the house, her shirt threatening to fall down. Before he could do anything, Simon whipped past Peter and threw himself into the crowd, shoving person after person out of his way.

"Ruthie! What do you think you're doing?!" Simon screamed at her, grabbing her arm forcefully and yanking her away from the guy.

"Relax!" she said, slurring.

"We're going home! Party time's over, say goodnight, Ruthie." He made his way back through the people, who had now opened a space for him, getting out of his way, half-dragging Ruthie as she stumbled along beside him. When he reached Peter, he didn't stop and, for a second, Peter thought he was just going to leave him there.

But before he could even finish that thought, Simon grabbed him by the coat and Peter was sure his death was near.


	7. Seven

_Seven_

Simon paced angrily back and forth, shaking his head, and running a hand through his hair repeatedly. Peter was standing across from him, leaning against his car, arms crossed over his chest. Ruthie had started out against the car next to Peter, but had done something of a half-twirl, tripped backwards over the curb and finally seemed content to lay flat on her back in the wet grass. She looked absolutely absurd, and had this been any other situation, Peter would have laughed, but now, he just felt annoyed.

Simon stood by Ruthie's head as he came to an abrupt halt so he wouldn't step on her. He threw his hands out to the side and leaned over her. "What were you thinking?" he managed.

Ruthie scoffed, closing her eyes. The whole world was spinning. "I don't even care, Simon," she slurred. "Nothing even matters anymore."

"Why do you say that? I thought things were getting better," he replied. Taking off his jacket and throwing it over her, he added, "Here, put this on. You look ridiculous."

At this, Ruthie shoved the ground away and sat upright, swaying a little at the sudden movement, the jacket falling to her lap with the soft rustle of leather.

"Well, that's just great, Simon, because all I am, is ridiculous! I don't mean anything to anyone so why even bother?! Nothing I do matters, and I don't even know why you're even here! It's not like you care, so you might as well go home to that evil witch that you call a _girlfriend_, and stay the hell out of my life! I hate you," she spat, seething.

Simon took a step back and let his arms fall to his sides. Ruthie didn't know if it was the alcohol running through her veins, but she found that she couldn't read the look on her brother's face. It wavered somewhere between hurt and disappointment, but mostly the latter.

Eventually, Simon gave her a shake of his head and said, "Fine." He turned away from her as she slumped back down to the ground, ripping his jacket from her body and tossing it away from her like a young child throwing a temper tantrum. Turning to Peter, he said, "I don't like what you did. I'm so angry that you would even bring her here and let her get this way." Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Simon held up a hand to silence him. "But that doesn't matter now. Just promised me you'll get her home safely?"

Simon's eyes were penetrating his as he waited for an answer.

Peter nodded. "Of course," he said.

And with that, Simon picked up his jacket from where it lay and walked down the street to his car.

When Simon had disappeared around a corner, Peter looked away and back at Ruthie, who had apparently passed out. Heavily, he sighed, took off his own coat and wrapped it around her. Struggling, he did that best that he could to get her into the backseat without slamming her lolling head against the car. He buckled her in, and then drove away.

* * *

Peter had parked his car across the street of Ruthie's house. They were just sitting here, Ruthie still unconscious, just out of the light of a nearby street lamp. He didn't know what he was going to do. He knew he couldn't take Ruthie home, and he couldn't very well show up with her, drunk, at his house. So far, his options were extremely limited, and that was putting it optimistically.

Peter was just about to give up hope when there was a slight knock on his passenger-side window. He jumped, then recognition sank in and he rolled the window down.

"Martin?" Peter asked, studying his face.

"Peter? What are you doing out here? It's late," Martin said, clearly not expecting him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you lived across from the Camden's. I hope I didn't scare you or anything," Peter replied.

"Is there something wrong? Do you need some help with your car or something?"

Suddenly, the back door opened and a horrible retching sound broke the silence that hung in the crisp night air.

Over the grotesque splashing noises, Peter said, nonchalantly, "Actually, there is something…"

* * *

Sometime the next morning, Ruthie found herself being assaulted by the sunlight streaming through slightly cracked blinds, even through her closed eyelids. Her head was screaming at her from the inside and she silently begged it to stop. She grimaced and forced herself up on her side, wet curls falling against her face. Slowly, she cracked open an eye.

The room swam into view and instantly she realized she wasn't in her own bed. Both eyes flew open as she pushed herself completely upright, taking in her surroundings. Photos of famous baseball players were posted on the walls, trophies sat dusty on shelves, a piled of untouched books on a crowded desk, and clothes thrown haphazardly in a corner.

Immediately, she looked down at herself, putting her hands to her chest and lifting the blankets to check for her own clothes. She expelled a sigh of relief when she realized that she was dressed, but not in her own outfit. She wore a gray shirt three sizes too big and a pair of black flannel pajama pants that she feared would fall off if she stood up.

Ruthie scanned the room again, but she already knew where she was: Martin's bedroom. Her eyes had just gone to the door when it opened, and Martin appeared with a glass of water and two aspirin cupped in the other.

"Hey," he said softly, tapping the door shut with his foot.

Ruthie pulled the blankets up close around her as she tried to manage a smile. "Hey," she replied.

Martin came to sit on the bed next to her. "Here, take these. It'll make you feel better," he said, handing her the glass and medication.

Ruthie gave an unpleasant laugh as she accepted his offering. "No, it won't," she said, absently.

Martin watched her as she popped the pills and took a gulp of water. "Yes, it will. From what I saw, you have to have the world's worst hangover."

She set the glass on the oak nightstand and shook her objecting head. "Not that. I mean, yes, I feel pretty messed up, but I wasn't talking about the headache."

He scooted closer to her so she had to look him in the face. She could see worry written all over it, and she felt warm tears falling down her cheeks without even knowing that she was crying.

Ruthie put her head in her hands. "I feel so stupid for the way I acted. I can't believe I did that. I don't even know why I did that. It's just not something I'd do. I feel like there's so many things that I can't control and it's making me lose my mind…myself…" She sniffed, and then added, "I'm such an idiot."

Martin gathered her in his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Yes, you are an idiot," he said lightly, and to his relief, he could feel her laugh against his chest, causing him to smile. "But don't be so hard on yourself. People make mistakes. Good people make mistakes. This doesn't make you a bad person."

"I'm a horrible person, Martin. I've been so impatient, manipulative, cruel, and incredibly selfish…. Especially when it comes to you. I don't deserve anyone's kindness or understanding, least of all yours. I don't even deserve to be loved."

Martin pulled away from her and stared into her eyes. He reached up and wiped away the fresh tears that were rolling down her face.

"Ruthie, I want you to listen to me. Really listen. You are the absolute best person in the world. You're kind and generous, beautiful. You really care about people and when you love somebody, you do it wholeheartedly. That's something I really admire about you."

"Thanks," Ruthie whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Martin smiled and put a hand to her face and gently stroked his thumb against her soft skin. "You know, you may be an idiot sometimes, but nothing you do could ever change how I feel about you… There's something I've wanted to do since the first night you showed up on my doorstep, but I never knew if it was the right time."

Ruthie's heart began to beat wildly in her chest and she was afraid Martin could hear it. "What was that?" she whispered.

"Shh," Martin said, putting a finger to her lips. "Close your eyes."

Ruthie did as she was told and her fingertips started to tingle as she felt Martin's hand rest where her neck met her shoulder. His touch was so soft and inviting as he leaned into her, and then…

…he kissed her.


	8. Eight

**A/N: **Every time I update a chapter, I keep forgetting to include an author's note! Haha. I just wanted to thank everyone that's been reading and especially reviewing! I really appreciate the feedback, which for the most part, has been greatly positive. I haven't been around this site in a very long time and I know a lot of people don't read _7__th__ Heaven_ anymore, but I just want to say thanks to everyone that has stuck around. Here's a new chapter. Enjoy!

_Eight_

Silence fell in the room once the kiss had ended, and Ruthie felt completely at ease in Martin's arms. She had forgotten about everything that she had been through and realized that all her pain was instantly rendered insignificant. The old adage rang true for her at this moment: good things really were worth waiting for.

"Why now?" she asked quietly, still snuggled up against him. She hadn't wanted to interrupt this perfect moment, but the question had been continually running through her thoughts.

Martin was silent for a moment and Ruthie wondered if he was ever going to answer her. Did she do something wrong? Did he regret kissing her?

His chest rose as he took a breath, then fell as he spoke, "You know, I don't know why… There's just something about you that I find incredibly irresistible."

"Well, why couldn't you have realized that before?" she asked, playfully.

"Because, I never felt like that before towards you. It's just something about how much you care about me, like you're so sincere with everything you do, like you'd do anything to make me happy, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness. I never realized it until you starting coming around again. You're intelligent, you're responsible, and you even turned down your old boyfriend for someone that a future with wasn't even a possibility," Martin explained, then he laughed, "A lot of this isn't based on last night, but for the most part, you're someone that I could see myself serious with, in a couple years."

"'A couple years'?" Ruthie repeated, pulling back and tried to catch his eye, but he looked away. "What do you mean, 'a couple years'?"

"We can't be together right now, as much as I care about you. I know it's not something you want to hear, and maybe I shouldn't have kissed you, but I had to show you how I feel."

"And yet, your words contradict your actions."

"Ruthie, I love you, but I can't be with you right now. I can't be with anyone right now, even if I wanted to. I have a little boy that I need to take care of and honestly, I don't want that for you. You deserve to go to college and have a life. I don't want to tie you down."

"Tie me down," she begged, "Tie me down, _please_! Don't just give me something and then just take it away!"

Martin put his hands on Ruthie's shoulders. "Ruthie, you have you whole life ahead of you. You have college to look forward to. You can be anything you want to be, and you honestly have so much light and potential in you. Even if you're ready to be a mother to my child, I don't want that for you. Maybe some time in the future, but not right now."

Ruthie shook her head. "I can't believe this. Why do you have to make everything so complicated?"

"Because there's no other way for it to be, it _is_ complicated. Just think about what I've said, okay? Think about it long and hard, and try to come to a rational decision."

Ruthie's eyes narrowed and she swung her legs out from under the blankets and over the edge of the bed. Spotting her clothes on the floor, she grabbed them in one swift motion and went to the door. Without looking back, she said over her shoulder, "I don't know why you continually cause me pain, but I will never forgive you for _this_, Martin Brewer."

Her hand was on the doorknob when something stopped her. Was he…_laughing?_

She spun around, fully intending to tell him off, but the image of seeing him cracking up, holding his sides because he was laughing so hard, actually forced her to smile, but she tried to stop.

"What can _possibly_ be so hilarious?" she demanded, trying to sound angry, which she was, but her anger was quickly fading away.

"You're just – so – dramatic," Martin breathed in between laughs.

"You're being very insulting, and, not to mention, very inconsiderate," she retorted.

He sat up, his laughter finally subsiding. "I know, I know. I'm sorry," he said, getting up and coming to stand in front of her. She looked up at him as he wiped his eyes, which had watered from laughing so hard. "Please, don't be upset at me and please try to understand. I just want what's best for you. It's not fair for me to ask you to completely stop your life to live mine, and I won't let you. You deserve better."

Ruthie sighed, unable to find the will to argue. "Yeah, I guess I understand what you're saying. It's just that I've been waiting so long, and I just want to be with you so badly, that I just wasn't thinking about anything else beyond that."

"I want to be with you, too, Ruthie," he said.

"You mean that?" she asked.

"More than anything I've ever meant in my life," he answered, running a hand over her hair. "I love you."

She could have melted into a puddle of mush right on the spot, but she kept her composure. "I love you, too. But what does that even mean anymore? You don't want to be together right now, and who knows, by the time you decide you're ready to be with someone, you probably won't even want to be with me."

Martin shook his head. "There's no way that would ever happen. You're the one I want. No one else is even on my radar. And besides, I just said I didn't want to be together, I didn't say that we couldn't date every now and then. As long as you don't go kissing random guys or old boyfriends, that is."

Ruthie gave a small laugh, even as guilt crept up inside her about Peter. "I won't. I promise. We'll be exclusive."

Martin kissed her. "Good," he said. "Now, go get changed and get out of here. I have to go get Aaron from Lucy. She's had him since last night. Don't worry," he said as he saw the anxiety appear on Ruthie's face. "She doesn't know about your little adventure."

Ruthie expelled the breath she had been holding and was about the head out of the room to go change, but Martin was saying something else.

"But you might want to talk to Simon…"

Memories of the previous night instantly came flooding back and the hateful words she had said to her brother rang loudly in her ears. She gave a nod to Martin in agreement and headed to the bathroom.

The look on Simon's face had been horrible. She didn't know if all the sincere apologies in the world could take away the sting of someone so close to you saying they hated you. Hell, she didn't even know if he would even listen to her long enough so she _could_ apologize. It wouldn't matter how sorry she was then.

Ruthie bid Martin goodbye and headed back across the street, showered, sober, and ready to swallow what was left of her pride.


	9. Nine

_Nine_

Ruthie was on her way back across the street when she spotted Simon in his car, apparently in a heated conversation with someone on his cell phone. He glanced at her as she approached and absentmindedly rolled down the window. Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping on his conversation, she appeared to busy herself with watching a stray dog wander down the side of the road, but she caught every word he said.

"I can't do this with you anymore, Rose," he was saying, irritation dripping in his voice. "You're lying to me, I know you are. If you don't respect me enough to tell me the truth, no matter what it is, then I don't know why I'm wasting my time."

Ruthie rocked back and forth on her heels. The dog was sniffing the base of a tree and lifted its leg.

"I don't care! I want to know what you've been doing. Just tell me!"

Feeling the need to give the dog some privacy, Ruthie looked down at her sneakers and waited until Simon was done yelling at Rose.

"Well, it's over either way. I have better things to do with my time than worry about what you're doing when you disappear for hours on end every other day without so much as a word to me. Good-bye Rose. Have a nice life." With that, he ended the phone call and just stared at the dark screen.

Ruthie didn't know what to say, but overhearing the things he was saying to Rose made her feel about a hundred times worse than she already did. She had no idea things were so bad between them. Even though Ruthie really didn't care for Rose, she still felt badly because Simon had been so in love with her, even wanted to marry her.

"Rough day?" she asked.

Simon tossed the phone, which was now vibrating into the passenger seat. "You could say that. What's up?"

Ruthie was surprised that he was talking to her like she had done nothing wrong. "I just wanted to tell you that I don't hate you."

He laughed. "Well, at least someone doesn't." He cast a wayward look at the phone, still going off, and displaying Rose's name in bright white letters above her number.

"Seriously, Simon. I don't know what's happened with you and Rose, but I really feel awful about how I acted last night. I had no right to say the things I did, and I just wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings."

Simon studied her face for a moment, and then moved his phone from the seat. He nodded his head, "Sit."

She walked around the front of the car to the passenger side and got in.

"You didn't hurt my feelings, Ruthie. You can't hurt me by saying something that I know isn't true."

"I shouldn't have said it. I shouldn't have done any of the things I did. I honestly don't know what got into me."

"You wanted attention. People do stupid things when they want attention. Believe me, I've done it myself. I just wished you had gone a different way about getting what you wanted."

"But I didn't. I didn't get what I wanted. I just made a fool of myself. I even used Peter to do it. I can't even imagine what he thinks of me now."

Simon looked at her. "You know, if you hurt anyone, you probably hurt him the most. That boy loves you. He tries not to show it because I think he knows how you feel about Martin, but he doesn't hide it very well."

Ruthie bit the inside of her cheek and nodded, not knowing what to say. She knew very well how Peter felt about her because he had told her himself, and she had repaid him by acting a fool. "He didn't want to take me to that party. I feel like such an idiot for not listening to him."

"Well, you weren't thinking about him. You were only thinking about yourself," Simon said, somewhat harshly, causing Ruthie to shoot him a look. "Don't even act like you weren't. I'm sorry, but it's true."

"Fine," Ruthie agreed, grudgingly.

"But I do think he only agreed to take you because he wanted to be near you. If he didn't love you so damn much, I think he would have just said 'forget you' and hung up the phone."

Ruthie sighed. "I don't even know what to say to him," she said, then added, "Especially now that I'm dating Martin."

"When did that happen?" Simon asked.

"About an hour ago," she answered.

Simon rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't think Martin knows what he's doing, but okay."

"We're not together officially, but we promised to be in a few years."

"Whatever. I don't even want to know. Yours and Martin's relationship gives me a headache and I really don't need that right now."

"Fine, but what do I do about Peter?" Ruthie asked.

"I don't know, Ruthie. You're just going to have to talk to him and see how he feels." Simon looked at his watch. "I have to get back to school, but call me if you need me. You know I'll always answer my phone."

"Okay, thanks, Simon," she said, leaning across the seat and giving her brother a hug. "I'm really sorry about Rose. I know you cared about her," she said.

"Don't be sorry. You were right. She is a witch," he said, laughing.

Ruthie chuckled. "Love you. Be careful," she said, getting out of the car.

"Love you, too."

Ruthie closed the door and waved as Simon started his car and took off down the road, watching until he was out of sight. She had just turned to go into the house, when she felt someone come up behind her and jam something very hard and cold into her side, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Grimacing in pain, she wanted to scream out for help, but a large hand slammed across her mouth.

The man leaned down, putting his face so it touched hers. She could feel his breath on her face as he whispered in her ear, "You're going to walk with me and do everything that I tell you to do. Say anything, or scream, and I won't hesitate to blow your head into unrecognizable bits on the ground. Understand?"

Ruthie's heart beat wildly in her chest as her mind raced, trying to think of how to get away, but never able to formulate a clear thought.

She nodded.

He leaned back, tucked the pistol into his jacket and took her by the arm so it looked as if they were just two people out for a walk. Ruthie didn't even look him in the face. She didn't want him to think that she was trying to remember his features. Not that it would matter if he killed her.

He led her away from her house and around the corner to a parked car. He opened the passenger side door. "Get in," he demanded, forcing her towards the vehicle. "Faster!"

She got into the car and he shut the door just as soon as her feet touched the floorboard. He hurried around the front to the driver's side, clearly checking their surroundings to see if anyone had seen them, but there was no one around.

As he drove, Ruthie watched out the window, praying for anyone to come around the corner, someone that would know her and know that she was in trouble. They were almost out of the neighborhood when Ruthie's heart skipped a beat.

Peter had just come around a corner, clearly on his way to her house. Ruthie's eyes widened as she stared at him and he had just happened to glance over her way. Never did she think Peter would be the answer to her prayers.

She put a hand quickly to the window and mouthed for help. He had stopped dead in his tracks and watched her as the man stepped on the gas.

The image of Peter spinning around to watch after her with a look on his face that she had never seen before was imprinted behind her eyes as the butt of the pistol slammed into her temple, knocking her out cold.

* * *

A/N:

I had every intention, when I first started writing this story, to have it just be some fluffy romance, but those of you that have been reading my stuff for years, should know by now that I just can't do that. I can't. I had to have some drama. Forgive me. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and are excited for the new direction of this story. If not, well, I'm sorry. Thanks for reading and sticking with me!


	10. Ten

_Ten_

Cars passed Simon by on the freeway as he made his way back to school. There was nothing different about the drive; he had made the same one several times a year. There were the same buildings, the same street lights, and the same construction zone that still hadn't been finished for as long as he could remember.

But there was something different.

He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he just couldn't shake. He was just about to chalk it up to seeing Rose again, when an amber alert came on the radio.

"…young girl abducted near her home. Victim's name is Ruthie Camden. She was last seen driving away in a tan Chevrolet with an unknown man. License plate number…"

Simon had slammed on his brakes, causing angry honking behind him as a white SUV swerved around to avoid rear-ending him, while flipping him off. Realizing he was still on the freeway, Simon tried to take a calming breath and got off on the next exit. With white knuckles and shaking hands, he headed back to his parent's house.

It took him nearly an hour to get back. When he arrived, there were police cars in the driveway and detectives on the lawn, taking statements. Simon got out of the car and raced over to where Peter stood, apparently in a heated argument with Captain Michaels.

"Why are you just standing here? We should be out looking for her, not standing around talking! I've told you what happened already!" Peter was saying. Detective Michaels stood in front of him, brushing off the anger projected at him.

"Peter, I understand you're worried. We all are. We just have to do our jobs and get every bit of information we can so it can help us find her as soon as possible."

"What happened?" Simon asked as Peter was shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, looking as if he just wanted to pummel Detective Michaels right on the spot.

"Ruthie's gone. Someone took her, I know he took her," Peter rambled. "I was coming over here to talk to her and some guy had her in a car. She looked at me, and I just knew." He turned back to Detective Michaels. "She's in trouble! We have to find her before something happens to her!"

"We will, Peter. We'll find her." Looking back at his notes, Detective Michaels asked, "Was there anything specific you can remember about the car they were in?"

Peter sighed, looking exasperated, clearly tired of the questions. "No. Wait, the right front headlight was busted. But that's it. And I already gave you the license plate number, shouldn't that be enough?"

"Did you recognize the man driving?" the detective asked, continuing.

"Not at all. He had dark hair, kind of balding in the front. Light skin. He was wearing some sort of coat, either black or gray, I don't remember. I only saw him in the car, so I don't know how tall he was or anything."

"That's okay," Detective Michaels said, finishing up his notes and flipping the pad closed. "I think I have everything I need for now. I'll let you know any other information I receive."

Simon scanned the lawn and noticed that a couple other officers were speaking with Martin across the street, and Detective Michaels had gone over to speak with his father and mother, who Simon could tell was on the verge of hysterics by the way she was wringing her hands.

"How could this happen?" Peter asked, sinking to sit on the grass. He put his head in his hands, and whispered, "If I had just stayed with her last night, she'd still be here."

Simon sat down beside him. "It's not your fault, Peter. It would have happened either way. Just think, you could have been with her and he would have taken you, too, or worse," he added, his voice trailing off.

"I shouldn't have left her with _him,_" Peter said, hatred dripping from his last word. "He doesn't care about her. Not like I do."

Simon knew that arguing with Peter at this point was futile. The younger man wasn't listening to his attempts at making him feel better, and, frankly, Simon didn't have the strength to encourage positive thinking. Simon knew from a criminology class he had taken that kidnappings didn't often end well. He knew the police only had a certain window of time to find his sister before…

Simon forced himself to stop thinking, and instead, he did the only thing that he could do.

He prayed.

* * *

A dripping noise brought Ruthie swimming back up through the darkness. A blinding pain in her head made her cringe. Feeling like she couldn't sit upright without throwing up, Ruthie tried to survey her surroundings from where she lay.

The room was dark, lightened only a bit by light slithering through a small, high window. She was in someone's basement, sprawled on the cold, concrete floor, flat on her back. A deep, utility sink sat in the corner, dripping water at a steady rate. Some garden tools and an old bicycle propped up against the wall opposite her were the only other things she could see.

As the pain in her head intensified, Ruthie reached up to her hairline and remembered the pistol coming at her. Her hair was matted with dried blood and a crimson trail had gone below her ear and halfway down her neck where it met, and stained, her shirt. She could smell the coppery substance and it almost made her pass out again.

Ruthie didn't know where the man had gone or if he was even still there. Maybe he had counted on her to be knocked out for a couple more hours, because it didn't seem like he was home. She tried to slow her breathing as she strained her ears to listen, but there was nothing but silence and the incessant dripping from the sink.

"_I have to get out of here,"_ Ruthie thought above the pounding in her head.

She forced herself to sit up and the room promptly started to spin violently around her. She pushed herself with her heels back to the wall and leaned against it to steady herself, willing herself not to throw up. Ruthie took a deep breath, and even though the air was heavy with must, she felt a little better.

Looking to her side, she noticed there was a little end table with drawers. Listening again, she made sure that no one was coming and then slowly opened the bottom drawer. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, feeling like she was going to get caught at any moment.

She didn't know what she was expecting to find, but the drawer was full of photographs. Ruthie found it odd that this man was the sentimental type. She figured they were just pictures of his family, but almost as soon as that thought entered her mind, she knew she was wrong.

The photos were of different girls, about five in total. And then it dawned on her:

He had done this before.

Ruthie threw the photos back in the drawer as if they were on fire and quickly closed it. She stared for a moment, and then slowly opened the next one. Expecting to find more of the same, she was horrified when she saw undergarments mixed with jewelry and hair clips.

Souvenirs.

Instantly, Ruthie felt sick to her stomach, and this time it wasn't from her head injury. Suddenly, a cool voice rang through the air. Hastily, she slammed the drawer shut and whipped around. He was standing in the doorway, light flooding in, casting him in shadow.

"You know, you really shouldn't be going through other people's personal property. It really isn't polite."


	11. Eleven

_Eleven_

The man stood there in the doorway for a moment after he spoke. Ruthie found herself trembling there on the floor, completely unable to move. She knew she had just been caught red-handed, going through his personal belongings, unwittingly uncovering his criminal past. Now she knew too much and Ruthie was sure she just made her situation even more dire than it already was.

He seemed to be studying her and Ruthie wasn't sure what he was going to do next. Then, she realized that something was hanging at his side in his hand. It seemed to be some sort of rag.

Her heart skipped a beat as wild thoughts ran through her mind. He was probably going to gag her with it and do only God knows what.

He closed the door behind her and flicked a light on. Ruthie's eyes burned at the sudden change in the room and she had to screw them closed as her head pounded harder than ever.

She could hear him coming closer and she tried to control her breathing. He was standing right in front of her and she just waited for what was going to happen next.

But he didn't gag her. He didn't attack her. He just knelt down next to her and began dabbing at her head where the gash was with a warm, damp cloth. "I'm sorry about that," he said, softly.

Confused, she forced herself to open her eyes. Was he trying to comfort her?

"I get real mad when people don't listen. I seen you lookin' at that boy and I just lost it." He turned the cloth over to the clean side and continued dabbing at the dried blood. "You're real pretty."

Ruthie didn't know what to say, so she said nothing at all, but she was afraid that her silence would make her angry, so she settled for a slight nod in acknowledgment.

He finished cleaning her wound and smiled at her. "Yeah, I got big plans for you."

–

Peter was still at the Camdens' late that night. He had worked with a sketch artist earlier in the day and the story was supposed to be on the news in a few minutes. He had perched himself in front of their television with the sound muted, just waiting for it to come on. The police hadn't had any new leads since they had been there and Peter was getting impatient.

They said the car had been stolen, so they didn't know who was driving it. Captain Michaels said they had patrolmen out scouring every street but they hadn't found anything yet.

Simon sat next to Peter in silence. They both hadn't said much in a few hours. There was nothing either of them could say to make things better and they both had too much running through their own minds anyway. Martin had gone home across the street and that angered Peter even more. If Martin cared so much about Ruthie, then why wasn't he here, too?

–

Martin pulled the door to his son's bedroom so it stayed open a crack. He carried the baby monitor with him to the living room, where he sat on his couch and turned up the television. His stomach had been in knots ever since he had heard the news about Ruthie. Part of him was still in shock. He couldn't believe what had happened.

Ruthie had just been at his house that morning. And now she was gone. It almost seemed like a dream, and as long as he was by himself and not surrounded by the Camdens, he could almost believe that it _was_ a dream, a horrible nightmare. He couldn't handle being around them. They would shatter his disillusionment.

Reality was something that Martin did not want to deal with.

He had already lost too many women that he loved; he didn't know if he could handle losing another one.

It just might break him.

–

The man had been gone now for a while. He had cleaned the blood from her face, but she could still feel it in her hair where it was all clumped together. She still had a headache and couldn't move much. Ruthie sat pressed up against the cold cement wall. Her whole body ached and she swore her ribs were bruised, if not broken.

Her mind wandered back to her family, who she was wondering if she would ever see again, but mostly, she thought of Martin and Peter. Strangely, her heart ached for both of them. Ruthie didn't know what those feelings meant, but it wouldn't matter. She didn't know if her future even held another day.

The footsteps were back outside the door and soon it opened, the man reappearing. He was carrying a long, royal blue dress made from silk and lace, with buttons down the back. He came to stand in front of her and held it out.

"Put this on."

Ruthie looked at it and gingerly reached out, taking it.

"Go on, I won't look." Like a child, he screwed his eyes closed, then turned around.

Eventually, she was able to put the dress on and it fit so perfectly, it unnerved her. She couldn't help but think of all the other girls and if they had worn this dress as well. Her body trembled at the thought and she swayed on her feet, feeling lightheaded.

"Okay," she whispered, signaling that she was finished.

He swirled around and squealed with delight. Ruthie desperately wanted to vomit on instinct, but she just stood there, her fingertips on the wall behind her, keeping her on her feet.

"Now, we're going to have some fun," he said, sounding sinister.

Ruthie wanted to cry. Silently, she prayed for someone to burst through the door and help her. She looked towards the door...

...but no one came.

As soon as the news story was over, the room was silent. Nobody knew what to say, not even Reverend Camden, who was a professional in these situations. Peter figured it was different when it was your own child that was missing.

Peter felt Lucy jump beside him as his cell phone began ringing from his pocket.

He pulled it out and answered, "Hello?"

"Peter," Gage's voice came through the speaker. He sounded grave and unsure of himself, as if he was afraid of something.

"What's up?" Peter asked, vaguely annoyed at having to speak to anyone at the moment, but also feeling unsettled at his friend's tone.

"I just saw the news...I swear, I didn't know he was like that...He's mentally ill, but I didn't know he could...I'm sorry..."

Peter's heart began to race. "You didn't know who was like that? What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"I know who it is. I know who has your friend. Ruthie? I know him."

Peter stood up fast from the couch and pressed the phone hard to his ear until it hurt, not wanting to miss any words. "Who is it? Tell me who has her, Gage."

"It's my uncle. He just got into town last month. He was at the party the other night. That must be how he..." Gage trailed off. "I swear, I had no idea."

"What's his name?" Peter urged, scrambling for a piece of paper and a pen.

"His name's Rich. Richard Meer. I think he's been staying at an old house out on Benning Road. You know that one that hasn't been lived in for years?"

Peter scribbled down the information, praying that he would be able to read it later because his hand was shaking so badly. "Yeah. I know the one. Thanks." And with that, he hung up the phone, uninterested in anything else Gage had to say.

He looked up and for the first time, realized that everyone in the room was staring at him.

"I know where she is." Peter shoved his phone back into his pocket and tossed the paper onto the coffee table for everyone to read. "Call the police. That's where she'll be. I'm going there."

Peter had his hand on the doorknob, but before he could turn it, he felt a hand grasp him around his upper arm.

"Peter, wait. You can't go by yourself! It's dangerous and you could make things worse for both Ruthie and you. Wait for the police," Simon begged.

Peter stared at him without expression. "I can't wait, Simon. She needs me."

He jerked away from the tight grasp and was out the door as Simon's voice calling him back faded into the wind.


	12. Twelve

**A/N:** Sorry it's taken me so long to update! Thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate everyone's feedback and opinions on how this story should go. ;) I know I'm not going to make everyone happy, regardless of how I end this story, so I just hope you guys can respect whatever I decide and I hope you can enjoy it anyway! This isn't the last chapter and I haven't made a decision yet on who she will end up with, so we shall _all_ see what happens in the end. :) Thanks for sticking with me and reading!

* * *

_Twelve_

The hair on Ruthie's cheek prickled with cold as his icy fingers traced the shape of her face. He was so was close to her, she could feel his hot breath, which smelled terribly of alcohol. Without warning, he took her by the shoulders so hard that she knew she'd have bruises and forced her down onto the floor. She tried to control her expression, but she couldn't help but grimace in pain.

Ruthie closed her eyes, desperately not wanting to look at him. Maybe if she couldn't see, she could escape this moment entirely. He was on top of her, kissing her neck with cracked, dry lips.

She fought the urge to struggle and scream. Ruthie knew what was going to happen and there was nothing she could do about it. No one was going to come in and save her from this horrible reality. Knights in shining armor only rushed in to rescue their princesses in fables and fairy tales.

But she wasn't a princess and she didn't deserve a fairy tale ending.

* * *

Peter drove with white knuckles all the way through town and out to the countryside to Benning Road, where the house was located. He stopped his car and killed the engine before he got there so he wouldn't be seen by anyone who was inside. The house was draped in shadows beneath hundred year old trees and darkness. The only light he saw was coming from a flickering street lamp about a mile away. The moon wasn't out and even the stars weren't shining tonight.

Peter's phone continued to ring as it had since he had left the Camden house. He looked at it and saw the same numbers over and over again. They had all been trying to get in touch with him, to make him see sense and come back. But he wouldn't.

Not when he was this close. He wanted to be the one to save Ruthie. Maybe then she would love him like he wanted her to.

Peter picked up his phone and turned it off. Carelessly, he tossed it into the empty passenger seat and unbuckled his seat belt. Taking a deep breath, he opened his door and stepped out into the cool, night air.

Suddenly, he found himself illuminated in headlights from behind. Peter swirled around, causing dirt to come flying up around his feet. His heart almost stopped when he saw the car pull up and come to an abrupt halt. Peter found himself frozen in fear, expecting the worst.

As the man got out of the car, he realized with a sigh of relief that it wasn't Richard, like he thought, but it was still someone he didn't want to see.

Martin.

"Have you completely lost your mind?!" Martin said in a harsh whisper as he came to Peter.

Peter clench his fists at his sides as his heart slowed down to a steady pace. "What are _you_ doing here?" he spat.

"The Camdens told me what happened. How could you possibly think this was a good idea? Don't you understand how dangerous this is? You don't know what you're doing! Do you _want _to get her killed?!" Martin was beyond angry, but Peter didn't care. His own anger was rising inside of him.

"I know exactly what I'm doing. I know where she is and I can help her. I can't just wait around for the police, Martin. Considering you're so in love with her, I would have expected the same from you," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Don't act like you know everything about mine and Ruthie's relationship. I do love her, regardless of what you think."

"Prove it," Peter said.

"I don't have to prove anything to you. I know how I feel and I know how Ruthie feels. Besides, the entire time I've known her, I've never heard her talk about you, so I don't know why you're trying to force her to feel something that she obviously doesn't," Martin shot back.

"Well, maybe she is in so much pain from our breakup that she couldn't bear to talk about me, especially to someone who has pretty much treated her like an afterthought."

Martin almost laughed out loud. "Okay, right. That _must_ be it. How could she possibly want me, a tall, dark and handsome man over you, a skinny, blonde, shaggy-haired, senseless little boy? You're right, you're clearly the best choice," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Peter stepped closer to Martin, getting in his face. "Oh, I'm senseless? At least I had enough sense not to have casual sex with someone and have a child at seventeen. Yeah, you're full of intelligence."

Something inside of Martin snapped and before he knew it, his fist was connecting with Peter's face. The younger boy stumbled back, but regained his balance. He launched himself forward, ramming his shoulder into Martin's midsection, taking him down to the dirt and gravel.

"Not so handsome now, are you?" Peter quipped as he landed several blows to Martin's face before he was thrown off. Peter laid sprawled on his back on the ground, catching his breath. He expected Martin to come back at him, but he didn't. Instead, he found a hand reaching down to him, ready to help him up.

Peter's eyebrows came together in utter confusion as he stared up at Martin. Disgusted, he ignored the offer and pushed himself up. Brushing the dirt off his clothes, Peter shook his head.

"You are so weird. Just go home, Martin. I have something I need to do and I certainly don't need you tagging along." Without looking back, Peter headed toward the house.

"I'm not leaving. I'm coming to help. God knows you're gonna need it," Martin's voice came from over Peter's shoulder and he knew that he was following him.

Peter just shook his head. He wanted desperately wanted to tell Martin to fuck off, but they were close to the house now, so all he mustered was an irritated, "Fine."

They scaled the house under the cover of darkness. All the windows seemed to be boarded up with no light coming from the inside through the cracks at all, and the front door was padlocked. Peter pushed his ear up against the wood on one of the windows and listened hard. He couldn't hear anything.

"Are you sure this is the right house?" Martin asked, uncertainly.

"Positive," Peter said, pulling away from the window and continuing on.

"Well, how are we even supposed to get inside?" Martin asked. "Everything's locked up."

Suddenly, Peter stopped, almost causing Martin to run into him. He had spotted a small window at his feet. "There must be a basement."

He knelt down on his knees and looked inside, completely unprepared for what he saw. "Oh, my, God, Martin. I see her. We have to get in there, fast." Unable to look away, Peter ordered, "Find something to break this window. I think we can fit. Hurry!"

Martin looked desperately around him for something to use. A few feet away, he spotted an old, red brick. He picked it up and rushed back to the window.

"Move!" he said and just as Peter was out of the way, Martin launched the brick through the window, shattering it and opening a hole just big enough for the two boys to get through.

* * *

Ruthie's eyes were still screwed tightly shut when she heard the shattering of glass. The man pulled violently away from her and as he did, she shot straight up and instantly regretted it. Her head pounded with blood and she had scuttled backwards to the nearest wall to keep from passing out.

The high window had been broken and a pair of feet, soon followed by legs, were dropping backwards into the room. The man was scrambling with his pants, allowing the person fall down into the basement. Ruthie's heart pounded as her eyes saw a familiar face. It was Peter. Just as she was about to call out to him, she saw that he wasn't alone. Martin soon followed.

The man had gone across the room before either of them had moved towards her and was rummaging through the top drawer in the table she had gone through when she first got there. Martin was at her side in an instant, tugging her up. Before she could find any words to say, the man had found what he was looking for and spun around towards them.

He had a gun. The same gun she recognized from earlier, still with her dried blood on the handle.

Ruthie screamed as he began to aim in her and Martin's direction, but Peter got to him before he could get a clean shot. Richard was knocked off his feet, but that didn't stop him from pulling the trigger in surprise.

Ruthie felt a white hot pain in her chest. It was so intense, she couldn't even cry out. She heard Martin yell out her name and felt him grasping at her.

There was more screaming and another gun shot as her vision blurred.

Somewhere in the distance she heard sirens.

Martin was begging and pleading with her to stay awake as she struggled to stay conscious.

He sounded so far away.

She tried to reach for him, but her hand grasped nothing but air as she slipped away into darkness.


End file.
